


you plus me equals a flower festival

by Kamu



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, hanamaki is the type of guy to remember all your receipts in timely order
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 05:38:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6182632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamu/pseuds/Kamu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanamaki was certain of two things at the moment.</p><p>One, he really needed that last cream puff.</p><p>Two, painfully with all of his sweet-tooth heart, he wanted to share his life (and maybe his cream puff) with Matsukawa Issei.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you plus me equals a flower festival

**Author's Note:**

> I'm referencing a few memes and vines here and there, so it's okay if you don't recognize them but I want you all to know Hanamaki is the meme king and he cannot be stoppe.d

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a thing for Hanamaki calling Iwaizumi "Hajime-kun" in private and "Iwaizumi" in the presence of others. As you can see, I am an avid fan of Iwa-chan and Makki's friendship.

The question glared at him from the whiteboard.

"WHAT WOULD YOU PAINT IF YOU COULD PAINT ANYTHING YOU WANTED?"

An assembly of half-assed answers and memes were scrawled below it. The instructor told them early on to be serious, but they eventually gave up when the memes got abstract and the answers unintelligible and mixed in with dead languages.

Hanamaki looked at his long-time bestie in crime across table. "What would you paint?"

"...I'd paint a beach scene." Matsukawa looked back at him. "What about you?"

Hanamaki rearranged the still life they were supposed to be sketching. He fixed the flowers so he didn’t have to look at Matsukawa as he spoke.

Well. Fuck.

“Godzilla,” Hanamaki said with utmost seriousness.

Matsukawa parted the flowers and flicked a finger to his forehead.

“I’m asking for cereals,” Matsukawa said, also sounding serious.

Hanamaki rubbed at the place he hit.

"Fine. _For cereals._ I'd paint a flower festival."

“Nice,” Matsukawa said. “Are we both secretly romantics?”

Hanamaki frowned. “I thought that was Iwaizumi’s thing.”

“That is definitely his thing,” Matsukawa agreed. “For us, I think it’s to a lesser degree.”

Hanamaki snorted as he picked up his pencil and pressed it to his blank paper. “Don’t serenade me in the middle of the night, now,” he joked. This angle was better and less distracting. Matsukawa was distracting when he was serious.

“That’s Oikawa’s thing,” Matsukawa corrected.

“Are they still fighting?” Hanamaki asked. Oh good, the flower didn’t look like he made it with his left foot.

His bestie hummed. “If you mean, does Oikawa still text me paragraphs upon paragraphs of passive aggressive rants on why his Iwa-chan is so fucking cute and irritable, then yes they are.”

“They’re so sickeningly domestic,” Hanamaki said fondly, scratching out a decent looking daffodil next to a daisy, the easiest and most difficult flower. “For their honeymoon, let’s handcuff them together onto a raft and push them out to sea.”

“Delightful,” Matsukawa said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, which was little to none to any untrained ear. Hanamaki considered himself an expert in the ways of Matsukawa Issei.

“Are you going to cut your hair?” Hanamaki asked, because the long waves that fell over his forehead and the ponytail that made him look six years older killed him every time he met up with Matsukawa and was forced to face the dazed blue eyes under droopy caterpillar eyebrows and the inexplicable feeling that he may have it as bad as he did in high school.

“Nah,” Matsukawa said, oblivious to Hanamaki’s inner turmoil, “I haven’t had my heart broken yet.”

“Yet?” Hanamaki hoped his voice didn’t sound as high-pitched as it was skeptical.

Matsukawa hummed in assent, occupied with the task at hand, which Hanamaki was probably supposed to be doing right then.

“If you do get your heart broken, tell me,” Hanamaki said. Even with his feelings, he would be a good friend.

Matsukawa mumbled something that sounded like an okay, and they got back to drawing.

He didn’t finish the exercise, but he got something out of it: the fact he would always have Matsukawa’s back through thick and thin.

xXx

It was almost pathetic how easily Iwaizumi caught on when Hanamaki was feeling particularly petty that day.

“If you eat that last pudding, I swear I will body slam you so hard into the fucking ground you’ll be seeing aliens and stars.”

Hanamaki dropped the spoon and carefully placed the half-opened pudding cup on the island between them, backing away slowly from the deadly quiet that was his roommate.

“All right, what happened with Oikawa,” Hanamaki said to break the ice. He poked around in their fridge for any leftover dessert from last night.

“Why does it have to be about him? I just want my pudding,” Iwaizumi said, crossing the kitchen and nabbing the pudding that was rightfully his. “It should be me that’s asking what’s up with you.”

Thankfully, there were some remains of the strawberry cake a friend of a friend had given him the other day. He fished out a knife and started cutting.

“Nothing,” Hanamaki looked at Iwaizumi’s glare as he consumed the pudding with a delight that was odd on the usually frowning guy’s face, “much.”

“Just get it out there. My afternoon is free of work and classes, and I am in a good mood.”

Sometimes, Hanamaki wished he were as cool and lax as Iwaizumi Hajime. He said as much to the guy.

“If I knew you were going to get sentimental, I would have asked you tomorrow.”

Iwaizumi was like a cat in that regard. Hanamaki could admit at one point he considered vying for Iwaizumi instead, but then realized how easy it would be to fall for him. It was a shame. All those delicious muscles.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but please wipe your mouth.”

A damn near shame.

“Hajime-kun, what if Oikawa grew a ponytail?” Hanamaki asked, eating his cake and staring off into space.

“I’d kill him,” Iwaizumi said immediately.

“Okay.”

“He would complain about conditioning the ends and when it would be good time to trim them.” Iwaizumi threw his spoon into the sink and tossed the pudding cup into the trash. “I’d kill him, because he’d probably look good with a mullet.”

Hanamaki pulled out his phone and opened Twitter.

> [HE SAID TOORU WOULD LOOK GOOD IN A MULLET #HELP #SHITTASTEHAJIMEKUN @hajimemashedpotato]

Iwaizumi glared at his phone as it notified him of a mention.

“What the hell, Hanamaki.”

They’re both notified of a mention to their accounts.

> [Don’t you mean #HajimemaShitteTaste @hajimemashedpotato @makkimee]

Hanamaki stuck out his tongue as he tried to out-type Iwaizumi.

>  [SHIT UR RIGHT @mattsunnyy @hajimemashedpotato @TOORUOFFICIAL #MulletProofTooru #HajimemaShitteTaste]

“I hate you,” Iwaizumi said, closing out of the app with a sigh.

“You love us. Your specialized tag will be trending for the next four hours now that we tagged Oikawa,” Hanamaki said. Ah, he can hear the notifications dinging as he skipped out of their kitchen and flopped onto the couch.

“You and Matsukawa will be the death of someone,” Iwaizumi grumbled, settling on the arm of the couch next to Hanamaki’s head. "I think it’s probably going to be me, and then Oikawa will do something stupid and I will have to restart my heart my own damn self to smack him.”

Hanamaki turned his head and looked up at him, “That is a very elaborate scenario you have there. Did it take you about a week to think up? Does the thought of living for Oikawa excite you, Hajime-kun?”

“So something did happen,” Iwaizumi looked down at Hanamaki with a knowing, level gaze, “What did he say?”

“It’s not so much as what he said but what he did,” Hanamaki explained, allowing Iwaizumi to change the subject. He pushed himself up and patted the open seat next to him, which Iwaizumi took. “You know he grew out his hair?”

“It’s sexy,” Iwaizumi said without hesitation.

“Thank you,” Hanamaki said appreciatively. “He said he wouldn’t cut it until he got his heart broken.”

Iwaizumi crossed his legs and put an arm on the back of the couch, turning on the TV and flipping through channels, “You think he’s seeing someone?”

“I don’t know. That’s the thing.” Hanamaki heaved a sigh and let himself fall into Iwaizumi’s lap. “Feelings; what are we going to do about them? They keep changing.”

“I can tell you absolutely nothing,” Iwaizumi said, voice devoid of emotion and joking, “except that you need to keep your hands to yourself.”

Hanamaki put his hands away from those washboard abs under the tank Iwaizumi had so graciously worn with cut out arm holes to show off his jacked pecs and arms.

“I will if you put some clothes on.”

“Don’t bodyshame me in my own house.”

“Oh, I apologize. I will simply enjoy this obscene display of masculinity happening in the seat next to me.”

“Take a picture already. I know you send those to Oikawa when I’m not looking.”

“It’s not like I was trying to hide the fact that you’re an ideal model. It’s just that you look better in natural light.”

“Thanks?”

“No problem, Hajime-kun.”

After a moment, Iwaizumi spoke up.

“You upload these to Twitter?”

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for the likes and RTs.”

Iwaizumi sighed, “I've been wondering why I get random bursts of followers for no reason.”

“Your modesty is almost as bad as Oikawa’s,” Hanamaki groaned, “You two are perfect for each other.”

Iwaizumi didn’t refute him. He couldn’t, not when an ad showed up with a certain someone on the cover.

“Matsukawa models?” Iwaizumi asked, pointing at the TV.

“Yeah,” Hanamaki said, gazing at the short two seconds of his bestie slash crush almost with disinterest, “You didn’t know?”

“I would have heard from Oikawa if I did.” Iwaizumi shook his head. “I am less shocked than I thought I would be. Is that weird?”

“Not at all,” Hanamaki said, knowing where he was coming from. “He has that kind of face. Did you know I took a picture of him waiting for his coffee to brew and Matsukawa, the chill fucker, was leaning casually against the wall like he was posing for Men’s _Joker?”_

“Unreal,” Iwaizumi said in disbelief.

“The realest,” Hanamaki agreed solemnly.

“Oikawa will be so jealous,” Iwaizumi said as he turned on his phone and searched for the ad in question to send to the guy.

“And you call us enablers,” Hanamaki said with a smirk as Iwaizumi typed with a growing grin on his face.

“I’m only like this when it comes to you guys,” Iwaizumi said, ever the cheesiest and romantic.

“Stop it, I’m blushing,” Hanamaki said, blank-faced.

His phone rang in his pocket. Hanamaki and Iwaizumi looked at it glowing under the material of his track pants.

“Who could it be?” Hanamaki asked, looking at the call number. “Oh no.”

“Is it Oikawa?”

Hanamaki showed the screen to Iwaizumi.

“Why would Matsukawa call you?”

Hanamaki slid to view and accept the call, “Who else? Your pestering Grand King.”

He sat up and lounged on the opposite side of the couch, feet in Iwaizumi’s lap, “Hello, my sweet cupcake of sugar and spice, what can the humble Hanamaki do for you at this hour?”

“Iwaizumi’s there, isn’t he?” Matsukawa asked tiredly.

“Why do you think so, snookums?” Hanamaki asked with a flutter of eyelashes Matsukawa couldn’t see.

“Oikawa’s deconstructing me on Twitter and if I cared a smidge more, I would fear for my life.” True, Matsukawa did not sound like he cared one bit about their friend’s attempt of ruining Matsukawa’s social image. “Iwaizumi needs to stop instigating or else I’m out of a job.”

“Iwaizumi, Matsukawa’s going to be put out on the streets,” Hanamaki said over his shoulder.

“He can bunk with Watari if he has to,” Iwaizumi replied, furiously texting faster than a snail’s pace for once.

“You heard him,” Hanamaki said to Matsukawa’s sigh. “Hey, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing is it? You can take it.”

“I know I can,” Matsukawa said, “but Oikawa’s talking about you, too.”

Oh fucking hell.

“Hold the phone, I need to blackmail a guy real quick.”

“I can wait.”

Wow, he really loved this guy.

“Iwaizumi, your man is trouble and I am about to eat him for dinner,” Hanamaki announced, mentally bringing up all the receipts he had saved throughout the course of their friendship.

“Be my guest,” Iwaizumi said, tossing his phone onto the table and kicking back as a _Sentai Rangers_ episode came on.

Hanamaki waited the few rings it took for Oikawa to pick up to start in on deconstructing Oikawa Tooru.

“I think it’s funny how you...”

Iwaizumi got up to leave, which was probably for the best. He could hear Iwaizumi calling Matsukawa in the background, telling him it would take a while. He sensed some form of agreement from him, and then Iwaizumi left to take a nap for damage control later when Oikawa would inevitably come to him, emotionally savaged by means of Hanamaki’s astounding ability to memorize receipts from four years ago on a February during a leap year when Oikawa stole a cream puff from Hanamaki’s bento during lunch thirty five minutes to one, thus detracting 378 calories of needed energy from his diet that day to use for volleyball practice after school, also causing Coach Mizoguchi to tell him to pick up the slack because he looked more “tired that day”, which caused Hanamaki to feel a significant dip in happiness and a spike in emotional distress.

He said all this without stopping for breath.

“I could sue you, Oikawa,” Hanamaki finished.

“Damn, Makki-chan!” Oikawa chirped, amazed and horrified, “Back at it again with the blackmail and mental walls!”

“There are no mental walls here when I just tore you a new one,” Hanamaki said.

“I know you never do these things without reason,” Oikawa said in that know-it-all tone of voice. “You never speak at length for something as simple as a deconstruction via subtweeting."

“And why do you think so?”

“Because,” Oh boy, this was where Oikawa would narrow his eyes and have that look on his face like he knew he would win in some way shape or form, “you are in deep with Model-kun.”

Hanamaki sighed, “You couldn’t have thought a better name for him?”

“Hey, I can barely think when you just poked at all my weaknesses without blinking an eye!” Oikawa defended as if he didn’t just point out the one secret Hanamaki desperately tried to hide.

“I’m surprised I didn’t kill you sooner,” Hanamaki mused. “Iwaizumi and I were discussing what would be a good way to disguise your murder as an accident on the off-chance that you would go for the mullet look.”

“I’m telling you, I’m never getting one!”

“That’s good. You’re doing the world a favor.”

“Mean, Makki-chan, so mean,” Oikawa whined in the only way a grown man could.

“Oikawa, this is deeper than just a crush,” Hanamaki took in a breath as he confessed the one thing he kept to himself for years, “I want to have his kid.”

Oikawa was quiet for a long time. Hanamaki faintly heard Oikawa breathing and the buzzing of the line over the speaker.

“Makki-chan, is this an intro to another segment of your life I didn’t know about? I’m sure I can point you to some trusted clinics that provide hormonal therapy and the like—”

Hanamaki cut him off before he made things more complicated. “I mean, I want to have a family with him and live out the rest of my life with Matsukawa happily. I don’t want to transition and I’m fine as a guy with a dick, okay?”

“You want Mattsun to transition?” Oikawa asked in confusion.

“No one’s transitioning!” Hanamaki said loudly enough to prompt Iwaizumi to pop his head in.

“Everything okay in here?” the charming guy asked.

“Yup! Oikawa’s just making radical assumptions on his own, no worries,” Hanamaki waved him off.

Iwaizumi nodded and slid his headphones back in, closing the door to his room.

“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asked hopefully.

“Not in the mood,” Hanamaki informed.

He could imagine Oikawa slumping where he was over the phone, “Makki-chan, this day is not a good one.”

“Well, you can blame Matsukawa for all of it,” Hanamaki said, at the same time realizing it _was_ Matsukawa’s fault Oikawa was feeling shitty and Hanamaki was confessing his heart out to the guy with lips that flapped at the expense of his own vanity, “He pointed me toward you when you were badmouthing him earlier.”

“The schemer,” Oikawa muttered. There were the sounds of chewing, which Hanamaki took as Oikawa consuming his woes through his extensive stash of milk bread.

“It all comes from up there,” Hanamaki said, pointing to his forehead.

Oikawa hummed in understanding, “His eyebrows, got it.”

“Uh.” Hanamaki wasn’t sure if he should correct him on that one.

“This can’t go on forever. You two can’t be dancing around each other,” Oikawa continued, “You are a terrible dancer.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion on my ballroom dance skills,” Hanamaki said, laying back across the couch to flip through a magazine he had bought at Matsukawa’s urging.

“I like how we’re bantering like teenagers about boys, because of a boy,” Oikawa observed.

“You started it first with the subtweeting,” Hanamaki said.

“Iwa-chan started it by sending me that hot, sexy ad with Mattsun in it.” Hanamaki could feel Oikawa's pout from where he was looking at the subject of interest himself on a full two-page spread decked in the finest _kireime kei_ fashion.

“I told you,” Hanamaki said, flipping to the next page where Matsukawa was photographed in the process of buttoning his shirt, “it’s all his fault.”

“He needs to pay,” Oikawa decided. The crunch of milk bread plastic filtered through as Oikawa sat up and probably was making a victory pose.

“How do you suggest we go about doing that? Out of all of us, he has the highest defenses.”

“We need to lower his guard,” Oikawa said, suddenly determined, “Call Iwa-chan.”

“I don’t like where this is going,” Hanamaki said as he proceeded to do as Oikawa requested.

“Don’t worry, we’ll make him weak and go in for the kill,” Oikawa assured, humming as he rummaged around looking for something, most likely a pen and paper.

“You don’t understand,” Hanamaki said as a last warning, “Matsukawa is _unbeatable.”_

As always, his kindness went ignored.

“Have more confidence in me, will you? This will make all parties happy in the end once it’s completed.”

How was Hanamaki going to be an optimist about this if Oikawa was sucking it all away through the phone like some happy-go-lucky suicidal vampire at the blood bank?

Iwaizumi laughed once he told him.

“Oikawa knows what he’s doing.”

Neither of them understood when Hanamaki said Matsukawa was unbeatable, that he truly meant it. In all his observations of the enigma that was Matsukawa Issei, he had never seen him lose.

“I need a vacation,” Hanamaki said to no one.

Iwaizumi heard anyway. “You should have filed an absent notice five business days before you got Oikawa involved.”

He wondered why he had friends.

Ah, he realized, it was because of the receipts they had on him, the unflattering photos on phones he had yet to hack into and delete, and the fact that in a masochistic way he loved his three friends who accepted Hanamaki’s role as the ultimate memer of their squad.

Hanamaki could at least send one last tweet to his followers. 

> [TFW NO GF (good friends) #RipMakki20XX]

**Author's Note:**

> [blog](https://kamuwrites.tumblr.com)


End file.
